


It's better to feel pain than nothing at all

by PoetsAndPunks



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 08:44:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4822655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoetsAndPunks/pseuds/PoetsAndPunks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's better to feel pain than nothing at all // the opposite of love is indifference" - The Lumineers "Stubborn Love"</p>
<p>Two new couples in the Les Amis-friend group?</p>
<p>"‘Is it even possible to actually love someone you’ve never got any affirmation from? At least it isn’t rational… or pleasant'. On different occasions Grantaire had tried to forget his feelings, but it had always ended in catastrophe. He couldn’t really fight it anymore. He was so tired. E made R human, or what Grantaire felt for Enjolras overshadowed all of his own flaws. The pain of a broken heart at least assured Grantaire that he even had one."</p>
<p>"What this all had meant he could not begin to understand. Neurons and Latin and Morse code and calculations with space time and all of that Combeferre handled easily – but this… Had he overstepped when he kissed Courfeyrac?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's better to feel pain than nothing at all

The bar wasn’t exactly the place where you came to dance, but it had an excellent little dancefloor with lights and a smoke machine downstairs. The place was small, crowded and a little beat up by time and customers. Grantaire had found the bar a few months back and fallen in love with the atmosphere and their reasonably cheap beer. The bar, Camus Est Mort, was a boat, permanently docked in the river, close to an antiquarian bookstore where Grantaire had bought some poetry collections.

This time most of Les Amis where there. It was Friday night and they had spent the afternoon at a panel discussion about ethnic discrimination in sports, which they had organized. It had been very successful and Enjolras and Bahorel where even interviewed for a short segment on the news. In short, there was every reason to celebrate. Enjolras himself had declined the invitation to party and went home early to catch up on emails that had been left unanswered during the preparations for the discussion. He did, however, invite everyone to brunch on Saturday morning at his and Combeferre’s place.

The evening proceeded in usual patterns. Eponine, Bossuet and Bahorel where engaged in a game where two of them sat opposite each other with their mouths filled with whatever drink they had at the time and the third person told jokes, waiting for one or both of the contestants to spit the liquids all over the another. Musichetta and Cosette practised their German with a touristing female biker gang. Jehan and Marius had found a five stringed guitar and tried to play some Baltic lullaby while Joly and Feuilly danced around them. Feuilly was mostly waving his beer, telling the wannabe-troubadours the story of how Denmark supposedly got its flag from God during a war in Estonia in the Middle Ages; and Joly was just dancing like in a happy trance, totally out of sync with both his friends’ guitar and the music coming from the speakers. Courfeyrac was playing chess with Combeferre and occasionally received advice from Grantaire, who was on his fourth beer and drew motorbikes on a coaster.

R was not specifically drunk, he wished he was more drunk, actually. He wished he could unsee Enjolras in the white shirt he had worn for the camera. He wished he could unsee how E had stroked his lower lip with his thumb after having taken a sip of water and unhear the compliments E had given Grantaire’s posters for the benefit concert they were throwing next month. Grantaire wished he could unfeel Enjolras’ light touch on his shoulder as he made his excuse for the evening and Grantaire had to watch how his light, his reason, all he needed to breathe, walked away, freeing the long hair from a ponytail and putting his hands in his pockets.

‘The psychologists must be wrong’, Grantaire thought, taking a mouth full of beer. He clearly remembered Combeferre explaining dopamine to Cosette and Prouvaire. It shouldn’t be biologically possible to be infatuated with someone for over a year (or something like that, details were hazy). Grantaire had been head over heels in love with Enjolras for over three years, since day one. ‘Is it even possible to actually love someone you’ve never got any affirmation from? At least it isn’t rational… or pleasant.’ On different occasions Grantaire had tried to forget his feelings, but it had always ended in catastrophe. He couldn’t really fight it anymore. He was so tired. E made R human, or what Grantaire felt for Enjolras overshadowed all of his own flaws. It gave him light in an eternal darkness and helped him cope with himself during bad times – even if he only ever got to love from afar. The pain of a broken heart at least assured R that he even had one.

Apparently Ferre had won the game because Courf gave him a hug and they went to buy drinks. Ferre almost always won but it didn’t bother Courfeyrac, he loved to see his friend eying the chessboard with intense concentration and lighting up with ill-hid, childish happiness when he found a strategy. Courf and Ferre had known each other for ages and they were the best of friends. ‘It’s totally natural to want to kiss your best friend when he’s that adorable and smart, right?’, Courfeyrac thought while handing Ferre a Moscow Mule. He wasn’t quite convinced and the only person he could’ve asked was Combeferre – and well.

For a while Courf and Ferre played poker with Grantaire and a soaking wet Bahorel (R won as usually) and then they went down to the otherwise empty dancefloor with Joly, Bossuet, Eponine and Feuilly. They all danced like “mentally disabled zombie-clowns on drugs”, as Joly put it. No one was there to watch them so what did it matter what the dancing looked like? It was fun! Then the others left to take some shots and Courf and Ferre continued to dance on their own; or actually they started to dance more and more with each other.

It was around 01.30 when the two of them took their jackets and said good night to the others. Combeferre reminded everyone about the brunch, “We bought a new blender last Wednesday so we can make hummus and smoothies and whatever you like. See you at 11, don’t stay out too late!”. They had already waved good bye to the waitress, whom they all had more or less become friends with after many memorable evenings at Camus Est Mort, when Ferre ran up to Grantaire and put a hand on his back, “Hey Taire, remember the brunch tomorrow. Please come, I don’t want Enjolras to think I forgot to remind you. Maybe you have drank enough for tonight?”. ‘Fuck’, thought Grantaire, ‘do not remind me of him’. “Oh, so our mighty leader thinks old R is such a drunkard he has to be reminded specifically? Enjolras didn’t think I could get up to 11 – have I not proven to him that I don’t shove my own misery onto my friends? … Then again, he probably meant well, he always does, that’s the worst part…”; “R, you’re rambling”, smiled Courf, “Ferre and I are leaving now, see you tomorrow!”.

They walked away along the river side by side, just making tired conversation about how the moon looks when it is at its most beautiful. There was never any question, Courf walked with Ferre all the way to the newly built, light apartment Ferre and Enjolras shared. Courf had stayed the night on their couch many times – especially since Marius and Cosette started going out, making his own apartment seem rather empty. This time though, none of them started to take the spare linens out of the cabinets in the hallway. Again, no questions were asked, they just brushed their teeth quietly, not to wake up Enjolras, and both went to Ferre’s room.

People sometimes got surprised when they saw Combeferre’s bedroom. With Ferre being such an organized genius, medicine- and literature student (it was an odd combination, many had pointed that out), they expected his room to be tidy and strictly professional looking. It was not. It wasn’t that the room was a mess per se, Ferre knew exactly where everything was and it wasn’t dusty or anything. There was just so much stuff! Combeferre was interested in everything; he had his own miniature library with books from every genre covering two of four walls from floor to ceiling. The rest of the walls, the door and parts of the ceiling too, were covered in drawings by Grantaire, Chetta and Bahorel, several maps and clippings from newspapers. He had a telescope, a skeleton and an eighteenth century bike by the desk, which was cluttered in notebooks and teacups. All in all it was a very cosy room. The bed was large and the sheets were cool. Underneath them the two friends crawled in. They didn’t say much, just fell asleep next to each other.

Saturday was rainy so Combeferre and Courfeyrac didn’t wake up by the light but from the silent noise from the radio in the kitchen. They didn’t get up immediately, the lay there smiling, lazily reciting poems about rain. Combeferre looked at Courf’s slight stubble, soft lips and dark playful, honest eyes. He couldn’t help himself. He put a tender finger under his friends chin and leaned in to place a short kiss on Courf’s upper lip. Courf didn’t move away, just smiled, lay a hand in Ferre’s hair and kissed him back. This wasn’t just a peck but a proper kiss. They both laid on their sides, moving closer to each other. There was heavy breathing and hands moving up and down the other’s back. Then there was a knock on the door. 

“Hey, it’s half past ten, I thought you two maybe wanted to get up and get dressed before the others arrive? I’ve already prepared the food”, Enjolras voice called from the other side of the door. He didn’t sound embarrassed or apologetic or triumphant or anything, just neutral and generally content.

In the bed on the other hand, feelings were overflowing. Combeferre felt like he had gotten woken up from a dream by a bucket of cold water only to find he was stuck in tar. He quickly smiled to Courfeyrac and hurried out of the bed. ‘The only positive aspect of the brutal ending of this action is that Courf probably didn’t have the time to notice I was getting hard’, Ferre thought embarrassedly to himself as he put on trousers. What this all had meant he could not begin to understand. Neurons and Latin and Morse code and calculations with space time and all of that Combeferre handled easily – but this… Had he overstepped when he kissed Courfeyrac? What had really happened? On what page were they now? And how on earth was it even possible to love someone so much, so that all Shakespearian verses did not seem to be enough?

All of Les Amis showed up for the brunch – Grantaire even came ten minutes early just to prove that he could take care of himself. Since most of the group were on various stages of a hangover and it was raining anyway, they all moved to the couch after they finished eating, and started watching The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. Courf was sitting on the armrest with Ferre next to him and Enjolras on Ferre’s other side. Lesgle and Joly also sat in the sofa and Musichetta stretched out her small body in their laps. The rest sat or lay on the floor.

Courf was restless. He had seen the film before and he could not stop thinking about Ferre’s dimples, his tender fingers and his tongue. About half an hour in he excused himself to go to the bathroom and Joly immediately jumped up saying he would put some water boiling for more tea. In the hallway Joly took Courfeyrac a bit to the side, which was unnecessary because they were alone, “So? What’s going on with you and Ferre? Please tell me! Please tell me it is happy news!” 

In the living room Bahorel had put the film on pause, “Monsieur Combeferre, I’ll have to congratulate you, quite a nice catch you got yourself there yesterday! Now tell us all details from tonight!”. Eponine who was a tint more civil-spoken corrected him, “Or maybe not all the details actually. Just tell us if you kissed! Did you sleep with each other?”. Everyone looked at Combeferre with anticipation – except for maybe Enjolras, Grantaire noticed from his feet, Enjolras looked more confused.

Combeferre felt a slight panic building up, embarrassed he started to explain it all away. “Common now Ferre, please tell us, we would all be so happy for you!”, it was Jehan who begged him from the floor where he was laying on his stomach. Combeferre took a shaky breath and started to talk quietly but very fast, “I don’t know guys, he’s such a great friend! I might have made some approach but he surely just played along because it’s Courfeyrac! He probably just didn’t want to hurt my feelings. What shall I do? I don’t want to lose him… I just like him, love him, so much…”.

Courfeyrac and Joly had for a while been standing silently in the hallway listening. When Ferre buried his face in his hands Courf nonchalantly walked into the room with a big smile on his lips. Everyone had fallen silent and just looked at how Courfeyrac got seated, not on the armrest but in Combeferre’s lap, giving him a kiss on the cheek, then he quietly whispered “I love you too sweetheart; and had Enjolras not interrupted us I had loved to take care of that boner of yours”, in Ferre’s ear. Combeferre’s face went very red and the friends all started laughing. At that moment, Joly, who was a fucking saint sometimes, yelled from the kitchen, “The water is boiling!”

Only Grantaire, who was watching him, noticed not only Combeferre, but also Enjolras went red. Enjolras looked very troubled during the rest of the movie. ‘Did he hear what was whispered?’, Grantaire thought. ‘Or’, and this was a much worse possibility, ‘does Enjolras have feelings for either of his two best friends?’. Enjolras was really close with both Courf and Ferre; sometimes, theirs seemed to be the only company he enjoyed. ‘Courf is funny, easy going, kind and sort of sexy, he often hugs Enjolras. Ferre is hyper intelligent, sweet and mysterious – they fucking live together! Whichever of them it is he is crushing on, it is a good choice, an excellent one, worlds better than I could ever be – even though they are both now taken…’, Grantaire felt sick; and it was not because of the alcohol the night before. 

The movie had ended and it had even stopped raining, even though clouds still covered the sky like a lid on a can. Courf and Ferre had probably looked more at each other than at the TV-screen and were sort of anxious for their friends to leave so that they could talk things through and continue kissing. They were standing with their arms around each other talking to Cetta and Joly as everyone slowly started to make their departure.

Grantair caught Enjolras in the kitchen, “Hey E, what did Courf whisper? You were embarrassed!”. Enjolras just shook his head, he most certainly did not want to talk about it – especially not with R. Grantaire was too tired, feeling too down to be eloquent. “Then I’m just going to assume you have feelings for one of them. Who is it, Enjolras?”, he tilted his head, tried to look like he was teasing.

“What? No! Why would…? No. I love them both dearly and I would honestly die for them and do anything, everything, for their happiness, but I do not host any romantic feelings for either of them”, Enjolras looked chocked. “… It was a sex invitation”, he said much more quietly and in a regretful voice.

“Well that wasn’t hard to figure out. They’ve been so clearly into each other for ages! Don’t tell me you couldn’t tell. How prude are you?!” – ‘He isn’t in love with Courf or Ferre! He isn’t in love with them! There is a chance…! No. Don’t kid yourself R, he wouldn’t feel anything for you, if you so were the last person on earth. He doesn’t even hate you, he despises you, you’re nothing to him’, Grantaire had mastered the poker face after years of bar nights and doing mischiefs in class but inside his head there was total chaos.

Enjolras continued like he hadn’t at all heard R’s comment, “… And it’s my fault that they aren’t together already. I’m always there, they never get to be alone”. Enjolras hugged himself, looking pained, Grantaire didn’t think he’d ever seen Enjolras look weak before, he wanted to hold him close and comfort him.

It had taken Enjolras a while to register Grantaire’s words and after a short pause he snorted, “You know, just because I’m not promiscuous like you, does not mean I’m naïve and prude!”. Grantaire had over the years had a few short termed girlfriends and boyfriends and quite the number of one night stands; mostly he just talked big, though. He was hurt by Enjolras’ words and felt a little bit uncomfortable, the only real reason he slept around was to try to forget Enjolras, ‘why has E noticed?’.

Grantaire didn’t get far in his thoughts before Bahorel entered the room wearing a bright yellow raincoat and in the midst of putting up his long dreadlocks in a bun, “Yo, R! Some of us are heading to Corinth to shoot some pool for the afternoon – are you in?”. Before Grantaire had the time to answer (‘Oh hell yeah, sounds awesome!’), Enjolras cut in, “Um, actually he had promised to show me the exhibition with sketches from Picasso’s blue period today, right Taire?”. ‘Enjolras doesn’t call me Taire’, Grantaire’s head had been spinning before but after what Enjolras said he felt like he should lay down, thoughts were about to make his cranium explode from the inside. He just nodded. “Okeydokey”, Bahorel grinned at them, “See you Monday!”. He winked meaningfully.

Enjolras and Grantaire were the last ones to leave the apartment. Courf and Ferre stood close together watching them. Courfeyrac smiled like he had been given everything beautiful in the world when a soft kiss was placed on his cheek and the two of them clasped hands.

Just to buy some time R undid his shoelaces, which he otherwise always kept so lose that he could slip his feet in and out without bending down, and carefully tied them again. He had told Les Amis about the exhibition a few weeks earlier when Jehan had asked him about his plans for the weekend. He had ended up just sleeping and walking around his own bedroom for two days straight but he really did want to see the sketches – ‘how does Enj remember? Does he actually want to see the drawings too? Does E want to see them with me??’. Grantaire couldn’t tie his shoes forever and soon enough he was alone on the street with Enjolras – Courf and Ferre had already retired to Ferre’s bedroom. 

“Sorry. I needed an excuse to leave the house and give those two some privacy”, Enjolras said quickly, looking at Grantaire from underneath his lashes. “Oh”, was all Grantaire could answer. ‘Of course! Enjolras hadn’t even understood C and C were into each other and now he feels bad. He’d do anything for them… He used me as an excuse’, Grantaire tried to convince himself that his heart did not just sink with at least half a meter where it sat and surprisingly still beat in his chest. “Smart”, he managed to say after a while of awkward silence, “I guess I’ll just go home to me then. See you at the Monday meeting”.

R turned around, ‘Whiskey, I need whiskey’, and got to take two or three steps away when Enjolras grabbed his hand. “I had sort of hoped you would actually show me the exhibition”, he hesitated – also something really not typical for him, ”I mean, if you want to?”.

‘Is this the final sign the world is ending?’, Grantaire, too, did something he wasn’t used to, he kept quiet. With a weak smile he followed Enjolras’ lead as they started to walk down the pavement.

After some 200 meters they got into an argument about the term postmodernity; it was something they did quite frequently. Enjolras argued both for and against it, referring to Bauman, Habermas, Giddens and others. Grantaire argued against the discussion all together – “It’s one word! It makes the world neither better nor worse…”. The discussion was as intense as ever, but when they reached the underground station after 15 minutes they still had not let go of each other’s hands.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey!
> 
> Hope you liked this, my very first fan fiction short story! I love Les Miserables and see Grantaire in pretty much everything and anyone.
> 
> I usually don't ship CourFerre. I don't know, I just didn't see it when I read the book - but I've read so much about them, seen so many art works, that I've gotten a bit inspired. It was the CourFerre part of this story that first came to me, but instead of Courf I might have possibly maybe a little bit imagined myself (a better looking, more French speaking, less awkward version of myself)... I'm really glad about how it turned out :]
> 
> ... And yes, the bar described in the beginning is more or less the place where I work, and yes again, I recently wrote an essey for class about the term postmodernity.


End file.
